


What I want (when I want it)

by Hopetohell



Category: Mission: Impossible (Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Fingering, Mutual Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Reader-Insert, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:01:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25132057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hopetohell/pseuds/Hopetohell
Summary: You and August make a wager: who can cross the finish line first, so to speak. But the man just doesn’t playfair.
Relationships: August Walker/Reader
Kudos: 14





	1. The Wager

This is far from the worst idea he’s had—that honor currently goes to the Milan job from last October which you _still_ haven’t talked about. But he’s just so damn smug even with two fingers in his own ass, just daring you to say something. As if you could. 

And you? Well, you’re wrapped up in his big overcoat with his belt tight over your crossed arms, sitting with your feet under you, trying your damnedest to grind your way to orgasm before he can. Fuck, you can’t even curse at him, what with his necktie stuffed in your mouth. “You can forfeit, if you like,” he says, and you almost miss the hitch in his breath when he pushes the third finger into himself. “I’ll even go easy on you.”

But even if you agree, if you let him bring you off now, he’s just so damned _creative_ with his punishments. Better to give it your best shot now and take an honest loss than to disappoint him by giving up. Besides, there’s still a chance. You’ve almost got the angle you need, and you can tell he’s still just fucking with you, he can’t have even touched his prostate yet—

— _fuck_. 

You know the look on his face, the way even his curls seem to wind tighter and tighter. He hasn’t got long now. You can feel your bones creak as you jerk your hips down, trying to grind into your own ankles. It’s ridiculous, but it’s almost working, you’re so close, if he would just— damn it. You know when he finds that spot inside himself by the breathless moan that even his iron control can’t contain. He’s done playing, and you are _fucked_. 

His other hand strips his cock with increased fervor, his body drawn tight, and as he presses with one hand and _twists_ with the other, he comes with a toneless shout. 

Breathing hard, he lets you loose from your bindings, your hands instantly snaking down to press and rub at yourself. When his hand, still sticky with seed, joins yours, your hips snap down and you come all over his hand. When you can catch your breath you look up at him, hating the way he’s already composed again, how even now he’s running through the possibilities of what he can do to you. After all, he won the race and now he has all the time in the world.


	2. The Outcome

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a shameless excuse to put August Walker in a signet ring.

You lost the bet, which means he’s the one wearing the ring and you’re stuck doing surveillance again.

He’s in a suit and tie, more put-together than you’ve ever seen him. You’d tied the tie for him yourself, fingers brushing the side of his neck, leaving gooseflesh in their wake. Trying to get a rise out of him and it must have worked because he’d grabbed your hand and squeezed your fingers until your bones creaked. 

He slips an ornate gold signet ring onto his little finger. “You know,” he says conversationally, “I’m going to fuck you with this later.”

You drop the wire you were prepping. _Fuck_. 

From the van you hear him join the gathering, make small talk with the others. You tune most of it out, humming a little as you check security feeds. “South wing is clear. You’ve got ten minutes.” He excuses himself from the party, slipping unnoticed into the deserted corridor. “Who the fuck still keeps their dirty laundry in an actual book?” You’re still annoyed, the floor of the van is hard and you just know your ass will be numb after this. He chuckles a little at that, and you find yourself annoyed at failing to get a rise out of him. 

“Sometimes having something physical is the superior choice. Can’t be hacked. But keep up the attitude and I _will_ beat your ass with this book when I find it.” 

You can’t help the gasp you let out at that, nor the way your fingers creep into your pants. He _tsks_ like he knows. “Behave,” he says, and when you remove your fingers you have to squeeze your legs together. 

The rest of the mission goes off without a hitch. When he arrives back at the van he’s holding a blue hardback book, which he tucks into his duffel alongside his shaving kit. All in all, it’s one of your more successful missions, and it only gets better when August moves toward you on his knees til he’s crowding you against the wall of the van. And his expression, god. He looks like he’s about to eat you alive. 

“Do you remember what I told you earlier?” His voice is perfectly, terribly even. 

“Yeah, I—you said you were gonna fuck me. But come on, you also said you were gonna smack me with that book, I don’t think—“ He cuts you off with a hand gripped just this side of painful in your hair. And when you whine, he tightens his grip just that little bit more. 

“I am going to fuck you with this ring of mine—“ he’s pushing his fingers into your mouth now, stretching your lips wide— “and you are going to stay perfectly quiet while I do, is that clear?” You nod frantically around his fingers, saliva running from the corners of your mouth. 

When he yanks your pants down just far enough for access, you’re already panting, and when he pushes two spit-slick fingers into you, you have to bite into your own arm to keep your moan inside. Three fingers are a bit more difficult, and _fuck_ he has to get to four to get that ring inside you. You can feel it now and again bumping up cool against your skin, and when he folds in his little finger you can feel it catch at your rim before slipping inside. 

You feel filled to the very edge of your endurance, and it takes you an embarrassingly short time until you’re writhing on his fingers, undone by the stretch of his hand and the strangeness of the ring dragging along your walls. And with a flutter of his fingers, you fall over the edge. 

You have no idea if you screamed or not, but when you return to yourself August looks pleased. When you unlatch your teeth from your own arm, you notice you’ve left little bloody crescents. 

When you reach for him, he shakes his head. “What's the rush? I intend to take my time with you.”


End file.
